When it Doesn't End
by neurolingual
Summary: You grip the bouquet tighter in your hands. At least you're involved, you tell yourself, eyes scanning over the crowd in the church.


You stand there and smile, because that's all you can do.

Her dress is beautiful, its floral pattern cascading and twirling around her waist stopping just at the hem, where you can see her toes peeking out from her white heels.

You grip the bouquet tighter in your hands. At least you're involved, you tell yourself, eyes scanning over the crowd in the church.

Hanna hadn't liked the idea of her wedding being held in a house of worship, she had told you once, because she had felt that she had "sinned so much that whomever was up there, watching over us, wouldn't recognize it as real."

In a way, you can relate to what she said. You had been told, all throughout high school, that your love wasn't recognized in the eyes of God; so, maybe it's better this way.

That she's on Caleb's arm instead of yours.

But you want so badly for it to be your standing there, a white dress of your own, rings that match and prove to the world the love for her you have is real.

She catches your eye as you glance back towards her. The swirling storm inside them seems restless, emotions tumbling around, thrashing about, and it takes your breath away. For a moment, Hanna stops moving, stops walking forward, and just gazes at you, the saddest of smiles on her face. You can feel your chest ache as you feel your lips turn upwards in a similar grin and give her a reassuring nod.

You're her Maid of Honor, but a bad one at that; throughout the entire ceremony, you force yourself to think and think about something other than this wedding, your thoughts just enough to drown out the sounds of her saying "I do".

* * *

It's three in the morning when an insistent banging from your door pulls you from a nightmare. You're grateful for its end, but irritated that you've been woken up at such an inconvenient hour.

You rub the sleep from your eyes and slide your slippers on, trudging to the front door of your apartment, where the slamming against the wood continues on growing louder and heavier with each second that passes.

"I'm coming," you grumble, bitter tone to your voice. What could be_ this_ important _this_ late?

The door swings open, and any resentment you had towards the intruder fades away as you see Hanna standing before you, soaked to the bone from the rain pouring down outside, tear steaks discernible due to her running mascara and red, puffy eyes. She's shaking uncontrollably in front of you, and you don't know if it's from the icy climate outside or whatever emotions she seems to have bottled up.

You step aside and usher her in, your mind reeling, Why is Hanna here, alone, at your home at three in the morning? New York is a good few hours' drive from Philadelphia; your gut suddenly takes a dip as your mind thinks of the worst, all the possibilities that may have caused her sudden appearance making you sick.

"Hanna, what's wrong?" you ask, hands coming to rest lightly on her shoulders. She shakes her head as a sob racks over her body, and she collapses into your arms. "Hanna?"

"Em," she trails off as she cries harder into your shoulder. "Emily, I'm so sorry."

"Sorry?"

"For what I did to you."

You just kind of stand there, gently rocking Hanna back and forth. You have no idea what she's talking about.

"What do you mean?" You request, shrugging her away smoothly to get her to look up at you. She doesn't, instead folding into herself and staring hard at the floor under her feet.

"I'm so stupid," Hanna cries.

"Hanna, you are not stupid," you try to console her. "Please, tell me what's happening."

She answers with a kiss planted firmly to your lips.

* * *

You wake the next morning, naked, with Hanna sleeping soundly next to you. You watch her chest rise and fall with each breath, the sheet slipping down to expose the side of her breast. Your eyes create trail down from her collar bone to her shoulders, following the faint lines of her veins down to her hands, stopping on her ring finger, where the physical statement of her matrimony seems to be missing.

You cock an eyebrow, and just as you're about to examine it further, she stirs, arms moving to stretch above her head, a soft mewling sound escaping her lips. You smile softly.

Hanna blinks a few times up at the ceiling before turning her head to face you. She appears to be in a cloud of bliss, but then she takes hard look at your face and begins to bawl again like last night.

Unsure what to do, you lie there. What _can_ you do? Your best friend, the love of your life, is crying next to you bed, and you're the reason for it. She's betrayed Caleb, and it's your entire fault, because last night you couldn't find the courage to pull away from her grabbing hands and rough kisses; it felt so good.

You just lie there and stare at her sniveling form, and then begin to cry yourself.

* * *

Every time Hanna tells Caleb she's off on a business trip, she is truly at your home, tangling herself with you under the sheets of your bed, or becoming one beneath the scolding waves of water in the shower, or any available surface in your apartment.

Your body's meld with one another's, pieces to a puzzle coming together after years of not fitting where they belonged.

One day, you're lying together on the sofa, Hanna's nude from pressing down on your own as the two of you lazily watch a movie you had turned on as a lullaby to send you to sleep. Her fingers are skimming gently through your hair and tracing patterns along the tan skin of your side. You're slowly falling into the depths of slumber when her voice, low and raw, lulls you from it.

You missed what she said, and so you ask her to repeat it.

"I think I'm falling in love with you, Emily," she says, jolting you awake. Suddenly, you're keenly aware of every inch of your skin that's touching hers, your body on fire.

Your throat runs dry. "What?"

"You heard me," she rolls her eyes, gazing back into your own lovingly. "I hope that your think this isn't just sex, what's going on between you and me."

"I never thought that."

"I want to be with you, every day, like this." A tear rolls down her cheek. "I want it so badly. So, so badly, Emily Fields. Every part of me misses you when I leave; I can't stand it."

You don't know what possesses you, but you ask: "What about Caleb?"

Her body goes rigid and she sits up, still straddling your waist but not meeting your eyes. She chuckles darkly.

"Honestly, I forgot about him," she traces a shape with her finger ghosting around your belly button. "When this started, when I came over her for that first time, I threw my wedding ring somewhere in the back seat of my car. Because it didn't feel real to be married to him. _I_ didn't feel… right."

You sit up, Hanna still on your lap, and you cock your head to the side, waiting for her to continue.

"On my wedding day, when I saw you standing there in a Bride's Maid dress, I imagined you standing there in white instead of that pastel pink and holding my hand instead of Caleb." She took a breath to steady herself. "And that's when I knew that I was making a mistake. I mean, don't get me wrong, I love Caleb, I love him to death, but he's not you."

"Hanna?"

"Emily, I want to be married to you, not him."

* * *

Caleb calls you one day, and you're excited; you haven't spoken for a while, and it's nice to hear his voice. He's always been a close friend of yours, so when he asked to visit, you thought nothing of it.

The two of you are sitting in a crowded café just a few blocks down from your apartment, chatting idly and sipping away at your coffees. You laugh at the stories he's telling you and you're glad that he called you randomly just to catch up. You missed your old friend.

"So, how have you been, Emily?" He asks with a smile.

You shrug. "Not bad. Work isn't too stressful lately. My patients are doing better."

"How's the lacrosse player with the torn ACL?"

"Whiny and uncooperative, as always. She never wants to do the exercises I tell her that need to be done," you chuckle. "She's a pain in the ass."

He snickers along with you, but then his expression becomes somber.

"Hanna and I are getting a divorce."

Your heart slams up into your throat. "What?"

Caleb looks back you in surprise. "She didn't tell you?"

You shake your head. She hadn't.

"Wow. That's interesting."

You swallow. "Can I ask why?"

He raises an eyebrow and shakes his head. "Emily, I think you know."

Oh, _shit_.

Your heart pounds and your mind races; you stutter over your words as you try to speak, try to apologize and make up excuses and tell him how wrong you were, but he stops you with a raise of his hand and a small smile on his face. _Why was he smiling?_

"Caleb, I-"

"I understand," he reassures you. "Hanna came to you, I know that. We had a long discussion."

"Caleb-"

"Emily, just let me finish," his voice grows stern, and it instantly shuts you up. "She told me everything. Well, after I found out. I called her boss to ask her where Hanna was staying when she said she was going on that business trip to Pittsburg; I was planning on surprising her, take her someone romantic; we hadn't been intimate in weeks. When I asked, her boss was silent, and she told me that Hanna wasn't on a business trip. Apparently, she's _never_ gone away on business." He stopped to take a small sip of his coffee. "When I found out that she had been lying to me for months, my mind automatically went to her falling in love with another man and sleeping with him; it would be the only way to explain why she never wanted to have sex with me anymore. She barely even kissed me."

Your face burned a deep crimson as he continued on.

"So then I confronted her, accused her of screwing around with some sleaze ball business man, and she didn't even try to deny it. She was quick to their defense, saying that whomever she was seeing wasn't like that. They weren't a dirtball or a scumbag, and she let it slip that she was in love with _her_," he smiled softly. "And when she said 'her', I put two and two together. You're the only one of us who still lives in Pennsylvania."

You sit there quietly, not sure how to process this. You want to spew a million apologies at him, want him to yell at you, hell, you'd even let him hit you. You deserve it. You'd been fucking his wife for the past year.

"I always knew," he continued, "that she loved you. I could see it in her face. Of course, I never thought it was that kind of love, but I wasn't really shocked when she told me about you. We had a nice, long talk – it lasted a good several hours – and we decided that since she had fallen for you so hard, it was only fair that she end up with you."

You clear your throat. "But it's not fair to you."

"Life isn't fair, Em," Caleb shrugged. "I'll get over it. Sure, it hurts that she went behind my back and messed around with another person, but all I've ever wanted was for Hanna to be happy. And you make her happy, Emily. It was always a little suspicious when she would come home from one of her "trips"; no person could arrive home so refreshed and rejuvenated after spending a week away on business."

He laughs softly and you can't help but crack a smile.

"I'm sorry," you murmur. "I know you don't want to hear it…"

"I don't."

"But I have to say it, Caleb. You're my friend, and I love you, and I never wanted to betray you. Especially like that."

"I can't say that I'm not upset," he shrugs, "but I'm glad for you, Emily. It's been so long since you've found someone to make you happy; even if it's at my expense, you're my friend, and I'd rather see you smiling and enjoying life with Hanna then sulking by yourself."

"I'm not sure what to say, Caleb."

He laughs. "Well, you owe me big time. And you better return the favor by letting me be your best man."

* * *

You're standing at the end of the isle, Spencer, Aria and your mother standing behind you in identical sky blue dresses, bouncing with excitement on the balls of their feet. Your dad is standing directly across from you, proud smile on his face as he nods your way. The growing ball of delight in your chest threatens to suffocate you as the familiar tune begins to play and the large doors of the chapel swing open to reveal Hanna in a long white dress, arm looped around Caleb's as he leads her towards you in rhythm to the music.

He kisses her on the cheek, gives you a sly grin and takes his place beside your father. You smile at him thankfully before focusing all your attention on Hanna.

She's even more beautiful the second time in _this_ white dress, you think, standing before you in one similar to your own, the ribbon around her waist matching the color of yours. Her smile is radiant and blinding, tears in the corner of her eyes as she takes your hands delicately in her own. She threads your fingers together and tugs you just the smallest bit closer to you.

"I never wanted to get married in a church," she whispered, "but since it's for you, I think I can live it."

Hanna squeezes the feeling out of your hands, and the prickle that ignites your skin only serves to remind you that this is happening, that Hanna Marin is standing before you; Hanna Marin is saying her vows after you say your own; Hanna Marin is slipping a ring onto your finger.

And Hanna Fields is kissing you as you're pronounced wife and wife.


End file.
